|
Middlefork Bayou, Louisiana
The debuting rays of the sun have just begun to lighten the eastern sky
and turn the numerous small fluffy clouds a bright pink against the lingering
dark background of the sky. Their beauty is doubled because they are reflected
on the dark, placid water among the cypress trees and lily pads crowned
with beautiful white blooms which are still opening among the ornamental
seed pods from old blooms. In the western sky, the full harvest moon is
still dimly shinning in the brightening sky. That quadrant of the sky
is an array of shades of blues and violets which form a beautiful counterpoint
to the eastern scene. It's October at Middlefork Bayou in northern Louisiana
but summer is lingering and this day could as easily be a late spring
day as one in early fall.
A great blue heron wakes, grumpy as usual, and cries"groomph, gru-oomph"
as he flies off in search of a good fishing place to watch for a crayfish
or catfish to come within striking distance of his sharp beak. A kingfisher
gives his rattling call as he skims over the water, then swoops with a
splash to catch a minnow. A red headed woodpecker pops from his hole in
a dead cypress tree to begin a search for insects on his home tree. Three
wood ducks, outlined by the rising sun, fly overhead, screeching warnings
of my intrusion.
And I'm part of this beauty also as I quietly paddle a small solo canoe
among the cypress trees and water lilies following the channel of Middlefork
Bayou as it twists into Lake D'Arbonne. Behind me, a trail of bubbles
give a brief testimony of my passage. I'm doing what I love best - watching
the beginning of a new day in one of Louisiana's most beautiful spots
from the vantage point of my canoe. I'm filled with a sense of great joy
as I watch the interaction of the sun, air, water, plants and animals.
At this moment, anything seems possible.
I come too close to a beaver resting on the bank after a hard night of
cutting down willow trees, causing him to dive off the bank and give a
tremendous splash of his tail, to warn of my invasion, before swimming
off to his lodge to sleep away the daylight hours. A bluebird flies to
the very top of a small tree and sits and sings his gurgling, cooing,
blue bird song as he grooms himself. Below him, on a low bush near the
shore, an Eastern Phoebe keeps a sharp lookout for low flying insects.
When she spots an insect, she leaps into the air, catches it, reverses
herself in midair, and flies back to her perch to enjoy her bite of breakfast.
As I wind past a cypress tree, I watch a red-headed woodpecker going up
the tree trunk with a cypress berry in his beak apparently looking for
a hole in which to stuff it. In the branches above him, pine warblers
are hopping along, busily looking for insects while decorating the tree
with their bright yellow chests and olive backs.
As the day brightens, I see the sun rising, fresh and glowing, from behind
the cypress trees across the lake. It shines down on some scaup who are
sitting in the water. But as I approach them, they all dive out of sight.
More and more activity takes place. The fish are swimming in small circles
and I surprise bass and gar which roll with a splash near my canoe and
then dive, leaving silence and a widening ring of waves to briefly record
their passage. A small alligator, floating with just its eyes above water,
sinks silently out of sight as I approach his resting place. More and
more birds join the chorus. Titmice, cardinals, pileated, red-bellied,
and downy woodpeckers, and merry chickadees all add their cries to the
cacophony. The sun reaches the lily pads and warms up the dragonflies
which begin to fly from lily pad to lily pad to twig and then out of sight.
Butterflies too, are now warm enough to visit the many button bushes for
nectar. Water striders scuttle around in an open pocket among the lilies.
Other insects remain invisible, noticeable only by their buzzing songs.
The air changes from the cool, clear feel it had at dawn to the soft,
warm, moist sensation of a late summer day. Now it's breakfast time so
I turn and wind my way back along the twisting channel to my campsite.
Morning has come and all is right with my world.
* * *
Lower Little Missouri - Arkansas
It's another great day- this time for white water canoeing.
Last night we put our tents up in a light snowstorm but woke to a beautiful
cold, sunny day. We quickly found the driest downed trees and sawed up
enough wood for a bonfire to push back the cold while we ate breakfast.
We ate a substantial hot breakfast and then made up onion soup to go in
our thermos for lunch. Then we layered on capilene and wool and covered
all the layers with nylon rain gear to serve as windbreakers.
Then it was time to run the shuttles. Today we are doing the lower Little
Missouri River in Arkansas. The water is at 48 inches after going up overnight
to 11 feet. This will give us class III water in many places. I'm using
my new Sunburst, a solo canoe, for the first time and I'm not sure I'll
be able to handle this much water. But my friends assure me I can do it
so I point my canoe upstream, get in and peel out into the current which
immediately spins my boat and sends it downstream.
Now my mind screams directions to my body. "Draw right, hold back,
dig in and PULL, catch that eddy there. First, aim for the rock. Then
as you cross the eddy line, do a lean upstream and a high brace. Keep
that paddle facing the current as you make your turn. Yeah! That's it.
Now lets peel out from behind this rock and go downstream and play in
that hole. But be sure it has a drain so you can escape. LEAN DOWNSTREAM.
KEEP THAT LOW BRACE. O.K., lets, try to back out. Ops!" (I lost
it and the hole bounces me upside down and separates me from my canoe.)
Immediately, one of my friends comes after me as I grab my canoe and get
on the upstream side of it. He tows me to a fallen tree so I can climb
up and get back in my canoe. Amazingly, the fall made me realize that
I have experienced the worst that can happen and it's not so bad. All
my clothes keep me as warm wet as dry so I don't bother to change. So
I become much more relaxed about the challenges of the river.
We're approaching a fast chute where the current will try and pin us against
the bluff on river left. Just below that is Flat Rock, where we'll break
for lunch. So we have to stay as far to river right as possible in order
to be able to take out.
My bossy mind takes over. "Paddle! Draw right! You're still crooked
and the current has you! You can't fight it. Let go and run this backwards!
Now catch it! Good! A hard duffek! O.K., catch that eddy and you are home
free."
"Hey, Marilyn, that was a wild 360 you did there." "Thanks."
(He doesn't need to know it was an accident.)
We lie out on Flat Rock and share our lunches. Everyone wants a little
of my hot soup. The sun is warmer by now and we feel a little like lizards,
basking on our rock. But soon it is time to go on to the falls and the
rock garden which will have tall standing waves today. One by one, we
peel out into the current. We try and stretch out the time by playing
in all the holes we can find. We have contests to see who can balance
the longest on the standing waves. But little by little, we work our way
downstream to the falls. And my imperious mind takes charge again. "Follow
that open "V". Draw a little more left. Now, paddle like hell.
Throw your body forward. Reach forward and DEEP and find some water under
that foam! O. K. great. ROCK dead ahead, draw right! Draw! Hang on! You
made it. Eddy out for a rest and to wait for the rest to come through."
Then its back on the river for the last short, wild stretch before the
river is tamed by Lake Greison. We head downstream to the rock garden.
" WOW! Look at those suckers! They must be 4 feet high! Remember
to angle into them our you'll fill up with water before you're through
them. O.K. Slow down. Cross draw! Cut back to the right. Yes, we need
a Duffek here. Easy now. Hold that line. Whee! Cross draw a little. Whoops!
A little water there but the air bags keep most of it out. Now work towards
river left because we'll soon be to the takeout and we don't want to be
pushed past it. There it is. Catch that eddy and pull. You did it! "
This has been a day of living on the edge. Mind and body have to work
in concert. But it is also a day of companionship and mutual trust because
all of us depend on each other for help if one of us gets in trouble.
We come back to camp exhilarated and exhausted and ready to make up a
quick, hot meal and relax around the fire before turning in for a good
night's sleep so we can have another run before we have to go home tomorrow.
Canoeing is a sport in which you can have it all, the quiet, meditative
oneness with your environment or the wild rush from living on the edge,
pushing your skills. You can paddle for companionship or for the joy of
being totally alone with nature. You can explore lovely wild places and
be awed by the sight around the next corner or terrified by the sound
of a waterfall around another bend. Each experience brings a new kind
of pleasure. So start paddling and building your own memory bank.
|
